


Softly

by katybar



Series: Phone Screen Ficlets [4]
Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-18 15:43:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11293716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katybar/pseuds/katybar





	Softly

There is crap telly on, but John couldn't tell you what show it was, much less what was happening. He was too busy running his fingers along Sherlock's scalp, corkscrewing through his curls, mapping the fractal edge between follicle and soft skin. It was nice, this.

Not that he didn't want to do more -- god did he want to do more, whole volumes of more suggesting themselves every time sherlock tipped his head up - -- but he was also pretty sure that one way or another, he wouldn't survive Sherlock. If he was courting the love of his life, he was damned sure going to take it slow and make some bloody _brilliant_ memories for when he was old and gray. Days of memories. Weeks even.  He was pretty sure that Sherlock's gaze, heated even through his lashes, was a good sign as well.

"Silver," Sherlock murmured over the sound of something exploding on the telly.

John jerked to a stop, wondering if that was meant to be a safe word.

"Hair color, John. Do try to keep up."

"Of course it was," muttered John. Well, he supposed it made sense that Sherlock's fey abilities would only increase if they started sleeping together, but still...

"It didn't require a mind reader, John. You have a well defined erection, and someone with your experience will surely have noticed that I am in the same state, and yet you are... petting me. Clearly you are thinking about the long term, and what more obvious symbolism than the one you are currently running your fingers through? Quite simple, really." He punctuated the deduction with an imperious twirl and flop maneuver that landed his bum nearly on John's lap and the nape of his neck a few inches from John's lips. "Feels good," he added, a bit more fuzzily.

"Git," John smiled, lowering the tip of his nose to the sharpness at the top of Sherlock's spine.

"It's a good plan, John," Sherlock murmured, his answering smile lighting his voice.

 

 


End file.
